The Thick of Who
by sherlockedbyben
Summary: A Doctor Who/The Thick of It crossover, it had to be done. The newly regenerated Doctor leaves Clara on Earth for the last time, leaving her to try and move on without her best friend. This leads to her getting a job in the British government working for Malcolm Tucker, who looks identical to the Doctor but in reality couldn't be more different.


**A/N: Hey guys, I decided to write a Doctor Who/The Thick Of It crossover because with Peter Capaldi being the new Doctor, come on it had to be done :P**

**I'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it :) For anyone who doesn't know what The Thick of It is, this fic will contain a LOT of swearing, I don't usually swear in my fanfics ever, but I had to to make this work. So if that offends you or you're not up for reading something like that, that's just a warning and maybe this isn't the fic for you, although I would love if you'd give it a chance :)**

**Anyway, please review to let me know what you think and if I should continue :) **

* * *

It had been almost a year now. Almost a year since the Doctor had left her on Earth for the last time, something he had promised he would never do again. But of course, rule one was the Doctor lies.

Clara was still struggling with the change of her childish Chin Boy Doctor into an older, more serious silver haired Scotsman, but that didn't mean she wanted to stop travelling with him. He _knew_ that, but apparently her safety meant more to him than her happiness.

* * *

_"Doctor," Clara began slowly,suspicion settling deep into the pit of her stomach. "This is my apartment. Why are we here?"_

_They had been in the middle of being summoned back into the Time Lock where Gallifrey was situated, so close to finally recovering the Doctor's home planet again._

_"I'm sorry, Clara."_

_Clara stiffened and whipped around to face the owner of the slightly pained Scottish voice with an accusing glare. A feeling of dread shot through her as she realised what he meant._

_"Oh no you don't!" She struggled to keep herself from raising her voice. "You're not leaving me here, not now! I'm not letting you do this alone, it could be dangerous!"_

_"Will be dangerous," The Doctor stated blanky, his face devoid of emotion, a mask covering the pain he felt inside. "Which is why I can't take you with me. I need to sort this mess out myself. I've hurt enough people, Clara, I won't do it again."_

_"You can't do this," Clara shook her head as the Doctor walked towards her and put a hand on each of her arms. She looked down, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. She was meant to save the Doctor, she couldn't leave him now._

_"I'm sorry," The Time Lord repeated softly._

_"No," Clara whispered, unwilling to leave her best friend. She closed her eyes and felt his lips press a soft kiss to her forehead. She opened her eyes quickly to the familiar sound of the Tardis de-materialising. _

_"No!" She yelled, rushing forwards and trying futilely to gain access to the fading machine. "Doctor!"_

* * *

She winced at the memory as she sipped her coffee, burning her tongue as she did so. She knew he was trying to do the right thing and she tried not to be bitter about it. That didn't mean it didn't hurt. The thing that got to her most was that he never told her if he was coming back. For months she hadn't felt like doing anything, too sick with worry that he had died or just decided not to come back for her, but now she was adamant to get her life back on track. Months wasted baking soufflés and failing at it was not therapeutic anymore, and she needed to do something. She could live without the Doctor if she had to.

A quick glance at the clock told her she was running late for her new job, her new job as secretary for the DoSAC party at the British government, to be exact. She had to admit, she was pretty pleased with that title.

"You will _not_ be late on your first day, Oswald," She grumbled to herself breathlessly, gathering her papers into a bag and rushing from the apartment, leaving her unfinished cup of coffee on the kitchen table in her hurry.

She knew she didn't exactly have a huge position in the government, she knew she shouldn't be concerned about messing things up, but that didn't stop knots of worry forming in her stomach as clutched the handlebars of the moped on the way to her new profession. She just wanted to prove to herself and to the Doctor that she could do this, that she was moving on. She could be brave, even without her best friend.

"Yeah, yeah I can do this," She muttered throguh gritted teeth, a wave of determination flowing through her as she parked outside the huge government building. Her resolve wavered slightly as she removed her helmet and took a good long look at the daunting building, looking much more efficient and professional than she was used to.

She took a deep breath and made her way inside, making herself as tall as she possible could considering she was quite short. She had fought Daleks, cybermen, even oversized snowmen with anger issues, she sure as hell could face this.

"Oh, brilliant!"

Clara whipped around to face the unfamilar voice to find a young man with curly black hair and glasses plodding briskly down the staricase in front of her to meet her. She offered him a small smile, hoping he knew who she was and would let her know where to go.

"Ollie Reeder," He smiled briskly and shook her hand firmly. "Thank God you're here, Malcolm's on the warpath and there's a shitstorm brewing. Come on, hurry up."

"Clara Oswald," She replied with a slightly raised eyebrow, following the man quickly up the flights of many stairs.

"I know," Ollie replied, glancing back at her as she tried to keep up. He was exceptionally tall and his long legs allowed him to move much faster than Clara. "Right, as someone who's been working with him for a few years now, I feel I should, er, warn you about Malcolm. Give you a few tips on how to deal with him."

"Deal with him?" Clara panted, wishing they'd chosen to take the lift instead. "What do you mean?"

Ollie dodged the question. "Just don't laugh, don't cry, breathe if you have to but not very much if you can help it, pretend you know what you're doing even if you don't and never," Ollie slowed his pace and looked at Clara sternly. "Never look into his eyes. He'll suck your soul out."

Clara laughed nervously, her chuckle fading away as she realised that Ollie hadn't meant it as a joke.

"Shit," Ollie murmured, glancing at his watch."I've got to go or Jamie will tear me to pieces with his bare hands. I don't fancy coming home in a match box. Just go down that way and turn left, you'll more than likely bump into a bloated whale or a seemingly elderly gay tennis coach going by the names of Terrie and Glenn, one of them will tell you where to go. Good luck!"

Clara raised her hand in a small wave and frowned as Ollie scurried away, looking perplexed. This place was a lot different than she had expected. She began walking in the direction Ollie had pointed when she heard an all too familiar voice coming from ahead. She froze to the spot as the owner of the voice rounded the corner, coming towards her with a phone held to his ear in a vice grip and a look of rage on his face. Clara's mouth dropped open in surprise. She swayed slightly and blinked, sure she must be dreaming. Her brain must have turned to mush or she must be having some sort of crisis because this could not be possible.

What was the Doctor doing here?

"-Right? Yeah, yeah you'd better fucking sort it out or I'll perform a live fucking autopsy on you, rip out your fucking small intesine and sell it to the queen as a necklace. No, no don't worry I'll let you keep the large intestine, I'll stick a fucking funnel in and shit down it. Okay, fuckety bye."

"Doctor?" Clara choked out as the man hung up the phone, stalking past her briskly. He stopped and turned around slowly, cocking his head to the side. Clara shut her mouth quickly but couldn't stop her eyes from almost bulging out of her head in shock. This man was the Doctor, he had to be. He looked and sounded like him but the Doctor never used language like that. Clara swallowed. What was going on?

"Are you fucking talking to me lass?" The man's eyes bulged out of his head in slight disbelief mingled with anger. Clara opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, completely thrown off guard. Something was wrong.

"Did you say doctor?" The man leaned back slightly and took a good look at her with a scowl. "The fucking psychiatric unit's that way, love."

"Sorry," Clara managed, attempting to look less puzzled though her head was currently swimming with confusion. "Thought you were someone else."

"Yeah, well I'm Malcolm Tucker, love, and the only doctor I am is a fucking Doctor of Spin, right?" The man Clara now knew as Malcolm almost growled. "Now fuck off and talk to someone of your own intelligence, maybe Spongebob Shitpants or a fucking earthworm."

"Oi," Clara glared at him, some amount of feeling coming back to her. She had no clue what was going on, no clue why this man was being so rude and why he was completely identicle to the Doctor but was not the Doctor. But she did know that she didn't appreciate being spoken to like that. "You don't have to be rude. I'm the new secretary, Ollie told me to go this way?"

Malcolm did a double take. "New secretary? For my department? Oh for fuck sake, why couldn't they hire one I don't fancy tearing their fucking entrails out of. I knew I should've picked one myself, leaving anything to that fucking poxbridge twat is a fucking mistake."

"Um," Clara began, fully intending to defend herself but finding herself cowering slightly at the manic look in Malcolm's eyes. The man was clearly a psychopath and she didn't enjoy being on the recieving end of one of his rants. She remembered what Ollie had said about not making eye contact, but she found she couldn't look away from his piercing blue eyes.

Malcolm was the first to break the stare and spun around, stalking back down the direction he had come. Clara felt rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. Nothing she had ever done on her travels with the Doctor had prepared her for anything like this.

Malcolm stopped sharply before he turned the corner and looked around.

"Did you lose your way on the fucking yellow brick wank stained road?" He roared, spreading his arms wide and motioning for her to follow him. "Come on, I haven't got all fucking day. I have to clean up a massive hurricane of piss after all these neurotics."

Clara hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. He took very large strides which she found hard to match, considering their height diffrence.

"Clara Oswald, by the way," Clara kept her tone light, refusing to be intimidated by this man. She couldn't deny that he scared her slightly, but she didn't want to let him see that. Even so, she had a feeling he could probably smell peoples fear, judging by the way everyone they passed steered well clear with a look of terror on their faces. Clara didn't blame them. She could practically feel the anger radiating from Malcolm. She gave herself a subtle pinch on the arm to make sure this wasn't some sort of twisted nightmare. Unfortunately, it wasn't, and that only left her more confused.

"Welcome to the fucking Shawshank Redemption, Clara," Malcolm replied stonily. "Only with more tunneling through shit and no fucking redemption."

"Sounds nice," Clara mumbled, sneaking another disbelieving look at the Time Lord look a like. She wondered if there was some way she could subtly check if he had two hearts without being massacred by him.

"So does the xFactor, until you fucking start watching it," Malcolm muttered as the entered a large office-like room filled with stressed out individuals rushing around in a frenzy. She recognised Ollie amoung the bundle of people and offered him a smile smile which he returned. The beam slid off his face when he saw who she was accompanied by.

"Hello, wankers," Malcolm boomed as they entered, much to the horror of everyone in the room. He gave a smile which turned out more menacing than friendly. "What's the story in Bale-Fucking-Mory? Fresh meat coming through, get the fuck out of my fucking way you miserable fucking tossers."

Clara smiled at the man nearest to her, an elderly man who returned the smile though he seemed somewhat nervous in Malcolm's sudden presence. She decided the best way to get through the day was by being nice, something Malcolm clearly didn't stand for.

"Malcolm," Clara's eyes fell on Ollie who stood up from his desk, a handful of papers in his hands. "About that email with the press-"

"Alright, Christopher fucking Robin, sit the fuck down I'm not a viagra," Malcolm turned his back on Ollie and addressed the rest of the party. "This is Clara Oswald, new secretary, right? Hopefully she'll do a better job than you cunts, eh?"

"Clara, welcome to the madhouse," The elderly man next to her rumbled. "I'm Glenn."

Clara gave another smile, feeling guilty when she remembered Ollie's nickname for him earlier. Politness didn't seem to be very popular in this place, she realised.

"Yeah, madhouse, the mad meaning mad cow disease," Malcolm yelled, causing Clara to cringe, not giving her a chance to reply to Glenn. "And you're all fucking infected with it, it seems. Get back to fucking work! Terrie, the whip numbers, what have you got on them now?"

Clara let out a sigh of relief as Malcolm turned to a short, plump woman and began to engage her in slightly violent conversation. She really needed some time to think.

"This way, Clara," Glenn motioned for her to follow him which she did gratefully. Her new office was quite small, but spacious enough and she liked that. She sat down in the stiff chair at her empty desk and clicked on the computer as Glenn began to talk her through the ropes of the place.

"-And basically try to keep out of fucking Darth Vader's way for the rest of the day at least," Glenn continued, having talked her through what needed to be done. "That would be my advice."

"Is he always like this?" Clara raised an eyebrow and peered through the wall which was mostly made of glass into the larger room outside where Malcolm was currently yelling at Ollie. The younger man was cowering away and Clara felt a stab of pity for him. She turned her attention back to Glenn and smirked. "Or did he just wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I'm not sure he even sleeps," Glenn replied, glancing out at Malcolm. "The longer he stays awake the longer he can give people a bollocking with his violent sexual imagery."

Clara laughed lightly as Glenn left her to it and tried to concentrate on her work. She wanted to get a lot done the first day and there was a lot of pressure on her with various people who she kept mixing their names up dashing in and out of her tiny office and yelling at her to send another email or make another call. She had only come into contact with Malcolm again briefly as he stormed into her office, screamed something along the lines off, "Fuck sake I'll fucking turn into a bazooka and blast him in oblivion. Clara, scrap everything you just wrote and write another email saying what fucking wankers the opposition are."

To which Clara sighed and flexed her aching fingers, already sore from all the typing. Her previously clean desk was now littered with papers of all sorts which she had to file and sort through, the thought of which made her want to cry. She tried to focus on the job at hand but her mind kept drifting to Malcolm involuntarily. She had never met anyone as frightening as him and she had met vicious alien leaders. She had a feeling Malcolm could probably project enough anger at them to obliterate them into dust.

She couldn't get her head around it. Why did he look exactly like the Doctor? Was he the Doctor? If so, why was he keeping it from her? She shook her head and groaned. No, he wasn't the Doctor. There was something different about him and it wasn't just his behaviour. She couldn't explain it but she just knew... She just knew it wasn't him. And that scared her.

She peeked outside the office again, craning her neck to see Malcolm yelling at Terrie. She was becoming better with putting a name to a face. She heard words such as "Fuck", "Shite", and "Fucking English Hitler With A Literacy Problem" being shouted through the not so soundproof glass.

Clara couldn't help but grin. Malcolm Tucker may be a psychopath, but his many insults were quite entertaining. When she wasn't on the receiving end, of course. The man looked about to have an aneurysm at any moment he was so worked up. Maybe if he did, she'd be able to go over and check if he had two hearts on the pretense of giving him CPR or something. She scrapped that idea with a sigh. The man was clearly not the Doctor, he was human.

The day passed faster than she had expected and she didn't even notice she could go home until none other than Malcolm Tucker strode into the room casually. He dragged a chair over to the other side of her desk and sat down, looking shattered but having calmed down quite a bit.

"Well, Oswald, that's it," Malcolm drummed his fingers on the desk absentmindedly as Clara turned off the computer to give him her full attention. "Everything went alright? No anal rape?"

"Everything went fine," Clara smiled, resting her chin on her elbow and looking up at him. It had been a hectic day and by this point, she was too tired to feel anything other than relaxed in his presence. "I'd ask you if it's always like this but I don't think I'll like the answer."

"I won't answer then," Malcolm smirked, and Clara decided she liked that smirk. It suited him better than when his mouth was curved up in a menacing grimace. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

Clara gathered up her few things quickly, taking home some of the papers so she could work on them overnight. She joined Malcolm as they walked thrpugh the mostly deserted building, taking the stairs instead of the lift. For once, Clara didn't mind. She wanted more time to talk to Malcolm, she was curious about him. She glanced over at him, pondering. In a way, he did look quite different to the Doctor. For one thing, she had never seen the Doctor in a suit. It suited Malcolm, and she couldn't imagine him in any other clothing.

"What made you want to work here?" Malcolm questioned suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I..." Clara paused, unsure how to answer._ Well, my best friend who just so happens to be an alien ditched me and went to fly away into a war in a blue police box that can travel through space and time. So I'm stuck here to get a job of my own. Oh, and did I mention he also looks identicle to you?_ "I just thought my secretary skills are too good to be put to waste," Clara grinned cheekily. "I mean, have you seen me type? I'm amazing."

To her surprise, Malcolm actually let out a bark of a laugh. It was the first positive sound Clara had heard from him all day.

"The fucking best we've had so far," Malcolm played along. "Shit's going to hit the fan tomorrow though, I can tell. We've got Ben Fucking Epilepsy Of The Eyes Swain doing another interview. I can't afford to pull it."

Clara briefly remembered seeing Ben earlier, a large blundering man who blinked a bit more often than the average person.

"I'm sure he won't be that bad," Clara reasoned, attemping to see the bright side.

Malcolm's eyes widened and he scoffed. "Clara, the man is an epic fuck up. He's so dense that light bends around him. If this interview goes tits up I will take his fucking optic nerve and strangle him with it."

Clara decided Ben wouldn't fare very well with the weeping angels. On the other hand, Malcolm probably would. One glare from him would more than likely turn them to stone permanently.

"It's not wonder he's got a nervous blink with you shouting at him every five minutes," Clara laughed. "You're a walking encyclopedia of violent swear words."

"What the fu-" Malcolm glared at her but then his expression turned thoughtful. "Actually, I like that. I think I might write my own encyclopedia of swear words. Yeah, The Fucking Encyclopedia of Swear Words by Malcolm F Tucker. I like that, do you like that?"

"I like that," Clara grinned, feeling more relaxed. For a terrifying second she thought she had insulted him and he would start ranting again. "I wonder what the F in your name stands for," She raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"You guessed it," Malcolm replied as the cold outside air hit their faces. He smirked. "Fucking."

Clara laughed, her hair dancing around her face. Malcolm's silver hair fluttered slightly in the wind, almost glowing in the soft light of the street lamps. Clara gave another smile and began to walk over to her moped.

"What the fuck?"

Clara turned around, helmet in hand and leaned against the bike. "What's wrong, Tucker?"

"You drove here on a fucking upgraded toaster?" Malcolm asked in disbelief, eyeing the moped suspiciously.

"The best way to travel," Clara grinned as Malcolm began to saunter over to a waiting taxi nearby.

"I'd believe it. See you tomorrow, Oswald," He called. "Wear your full body industrialised metal condom, the goverments in for a right fucking tomorrow."

Clara waved and chuckled to herself, adjusting her helmet. She started up the moped, enjoying the familiar feel of driving it. What she had said was wrong though, it wasn't the best way to travel. But she didn't have a blue phone box anymore and thinking about it made her heart deflate, so she decided to think about Malcolm Tucker instead. Psychotic sweary Scotsman he may be, she was beginning to like him.

She had no clue what was going on, but she decided that maybe she could get used to it.

* * *

**So that's the first chapter :) I wasn't sure where I was going with it but I think I'm happy enough with it now :) I hope it was okay, if you want, please leave a review to let me know what you think :) Thank you!**


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